Complete Works
Page 98
“That’s correct.”9
“Well then, aren’t those who know how to make dogs better also those who know how to discipline them properly?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s the same skill which both makes better and properly disciplines?”
“That’s how it seems to me,” he said.
“Well then, is the skill that makes them better and properly disciplines them the same as that which distinguishes between the good ones and the bad ones, or is it a different skill?”
“It’s the same,” he said.
[d] “And are you prepared to agree to this point concerning people, that the skill which makes them better is the same as that which disciplines them and that which distinguishes between the good ones and the bad?”
“Certainly,” he said.
“And a skill that can do this with one can also do it with many, and vice versa?”
“Yes.”
“Now what kind of knowledge is it that properly disciplines the undisciplined and lawless people in cities? Is it not knowledge of the law?”
“Yes.”
“Now is what you call justice the same as this or is it different?”
“No, it’s the same.”
[e] “Isn’t the knowledge used in disciplining people properly the same as that used in knowing the good ones from the bad?”
“It’s the same.”
“And whoever has such knowledge with regard to one person will also have it with regard to many?”
“Yes.”
“And whoever is ignorant with regard to many is also ignorant with regard to one?”
“That’s correct.”
“So if one were a horse and didn’t know good horses from bad horses, then one also wouldn’t know what sort of horse one was oneself?”
“That’s right.”
“And if one were an ox and didn’t know bad oxen from good ones, then one also wouldn’t know what sort of ox one was?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Likewise if one were a dog?”
He agreed.
“Well then, if a human being didn’t know good human beings from [138] bad ones, wouldn’t he fail to know whether he himself was good or bad, since he is in fact a human being?”
He conceded that.
“And not knowing yourself, is that being sensible, or is it not being sensible?”
“Not being sensible.”
“Then knowing yourself is being sensible?”
“It is,” he said.
“So it is this, it seems, which is prescribed in the Delphic inscription, to exercise good sense and justice.”
“It would seem so.”
“And this is how we understand how to discipline properly?”
“Yes.”
“So the way we understand how to discipline properly is justice, and [b] the way we evaluate ourselves and others is good sense.”
“It would seem so,” he said.
“So justice and good sense are one and the same.”
“Apparently.”
“And isn’t it also the case that cities are well governed when the unjust are punished?”
“That’s true,” he said.
“And this is political skill.”
He agreed.
“Well then, when one man properly governs a city, isn’t he called a tyrant or a king?”
“He is.”
“And isn’t it by means of kingly or tyrannical skill that he governs?”
“That’s right.”
“These skills, then, are the same as the previous ones?”
“So they seem.”
[c] “Well then, when one man governs a household properly, what’s the name for him? Isn’t it ‘head of the household’, and ‘master of slaves’?”
“Yes.”
“And isn’t it also by means of justice that he governs his household well, or is it through some other skill?”
“It’s through justice.”
“So they are all the same, it seems: king, tyrant, politician, head of the household, master of slaves, sensible man, and just man. And they are all one skill: kingly, tyrannical, political, managerial and household skills, and justice and good sense.”
[d] “So it seems,” he said.
“Now if it is contemptible for the philosopher to be unable to follow what the doctor says when he talks about sick people or to add any opinion of his own regarding what’s being said or done, and to be in the same situation whenever any other tradesman does or says something—when it’s a judge speaking or a king or any of those others we’ve just been talking about—wouldn’t it be contemptible for him to be able neither to follow what is said nor to add his own opinion?”
“How could it not be contemptible, Socrates, for him to be incapable of contributing an opinion concerning such matters?”
[e] “So,” I said, “are we to say that he needs to be a pentathlete and a runner-up in these areas as well?10 To begin with, surely he shouldn’t hand over control of his own household to anybody else or take second place in it, but should himself administer justice and discipline, if his household is to be well governed?”
He conceded this point to me.
“And furthermore, if his friends entrust him with the settling of some [139] dispute, or if the city commissions him to investigate or pass judgment on something, wouldn’t it surely be contemptible in these cases, my friend, for him to appear second or third and not to take the lead?”
“I think it would.”
“So for us to say, my friend, that philosophy consists in learning many things and busying oneself with skills, would be very far from the truth.”
When I said this, the wise fellow was ashamed at what he’d said before and fell silent, while the unlearned one said that I was right; and the others approved of what I’d said.
1. Anaxagoras of Clazomenae, the fifth century B.C. philosopher of nature, is reported to have worked on problems of geometry; Oenopides of Chios, a younger contemporary, was a mathematical astronomer.
2. The activities over which the Muses presided, especially music, poetry, literature, and philosophy.
3. This verse (frg. 18 Edmonds, Elegy and Iambus, Loeb, vol. I) is also quoted at Laches 189a5 and alluded to at Republic 536d.
4. Cf. Odyssey xxi.285 ff.: Penelope’s suitors, ashamed at having proven unable to string Odysseus’ bow, are reluctant to permit Odysseus (disguised as a beggar) to attempt it.
5. Reading ton philosophon at c10.
6. Accepting a conjectural deletion of kai autoi philosophoi einai at a2.
7. Accepting a conjectural deletion of espoudakenai, oude polupragmonounta at b3.
8. Reading beltious rather than beltistous at c1, c2, c3, c6, c9, and d1.
9. Moving this and the preceding line (137d8-9), so as to make them follow c2 (a conjectural transposition).
10. Accepting a conjectural deletion of kai tautēs … toutōn tis ēi (e2–4).
THEAGES
Translated by Nicholas D. Smith.
Theages tells the story of the first encounter between Socrates and the young Theages, who hoped to fulfill his political ambitions by learning whatever Socrates had to teach him. We also hear about Theages in Plato’s Republic, where we learn that his poor health (the ‘bridle of Theages’) frustrated his political ambitions, and in Plato’s Apology, where we learn that he died before Socrates. Theages provides a vivid and distinctive account of what was unusual about Socrates: his divine inner voice and the magical effect he had on his students.
At unpredictable times Socrates would experience an inner premonition which he interpreted as a voice from the gods. In Plato this premonition always held him back from something he was about to do. In Xenophon we read of similar incidents (Symposium viii.5, Apology 4 = Memoirs of Socrates IV.viii.5), as well as cases where the voice warned him against what his companions were about to do (Memoirs of Socrates I.i.4). In Theages we are told of four cases in which the pr
emonition was ignored, with disastrous consequences to others. In Plato’s Theaetetus Socrates says that the voice prevents him from accepting back some of his students who had strayed (151b), but in Theages the spiritual power that speaks to him not only prohibits Socrates sometimes from taking new students, it also exerts itself for some of his students rather than others. Theages is under the impression that this divine power can be propitiated by prayer and sacrifice, an almost superstitious idea that has no parallel in any other surviving Socratic dialogue.
In Plato’s Symposium, Socrates said that he was an expert in nothing except love (177e), and in Theages Socrates says something similar. In his (now mostly lost) dialogue Alcibiades, Aeschines has Socrates say, “Although I know no subject with which I might help a man by teaching it to him, still I thought that if I was with Alcibiades my loving him would make him better” (frg. 11c). Although he has nothing to teach his students, his affection and conversation make them improve. Unlike in other Socratic dialogues, the only improvement mentioned in Theages is intellectual and dialectical skill, not progress in moral virtue.
But not all his students made permanent progress. Alcibiades reverted to his former dissolute ways when he stayed away from Socrates (Plato, Symposium 216b), and others, including young Aristides, reverted to being the incompetent fools they had been before Socrates began to improve their minds (Theaetetus 150d–151a). Theages tells a remarkable version of the lapse of Aristides: now that Aristides has gone away from Socrates, the impressive skill in argument he formerly had has deserted him; better was to be in his presence; but best of all was to be right beside him, touching him, feeling his mysterious power flowing out of him. Plato argued against such a conception of Socrates’ pedagogical gifts (Symposium 175c–e), whereas for the author of Theages the magical effect of Socrates on his students was another aspect of the divine power that dwelled in him.
The arguments against Plato being the author are circumstantial but convincing enough that there is virtual unanimity among modern scholars on the issue. In the decades after 350 B.C., several philosophers in Plato’s Academy pursued an interest in the miraculous and the supernormal; the author of Theages may have been among them.
D.S.H.
[121] DEMODOCUS: Oh, Socrates, I’ve been needing to have a talk with you in private, if you’ve got the time—even if you are busy—still, please make some time, for my sake.
SOCRATES: Well, it so happens that I do have some time, lots of time, in fact, if it’s for your sake. If there’s something you want to talk about, go ahead.
DEMODOCUS: Do you mind if we move back out of the way into the portico of Zeus the Liberator?
SOCRATES: If you like.
[b] DEMODOCUS: Then let’s go.
Socrates, all living things tend to follow the same course—particularly man, but also the other animals and the plants that grow in the earth. It’s an easy thing, for us farmers, to prepare the ground for planting, and the planting is easy, too. But after the plants come up, there’s a great deal of hard and difficult work in tending to them. It seems the same goes for [c] people, if others have the same problems I’ve had. I found the planting, or procreation—whatever you’re supposed to call it—of this son of mine the easiest thing in the world. But his upbringing has been difficult, and I’ve always been anxious about him.
There are many things I could mention, but his current passion really scares me—not that it’s beneath him, but it is dangerous. Here we have [d] him, Socrates, saying that he wants to become wise. What I think is that some other boys from his district who go into town have got him all worked up by telling him about certain discussions they’ve heard. He envies them and he’s been pestering me for a long time—he’s demanding that I take his ambition seriously, and pay money to some expert who’ll make him wise. The money is actually the least of my concerns, but I think [122] what he’s up to is very risky.
For a while I held him back with reassurances. But since I can’t hold him back any longer, I think I’d better give in to him, so that he won’t get corrupted, as he might by associating with someone behind my back. This is why I’ve come to town, to place this boy with one of those so-called experts. And then you appeared before us at just the right moment, and I’d be very glad to have your advice about what to do next. If you’ve got any advice to give based on what I’ve said, you’re welcome to give [b] it, please.
SOCRATES: Well, you know, Demodocus, they say that advice is a sacred thing, and if it’s ever sacred, then it surely is in this case. There’s nothing more divine for a man to take advice about than the education of himself and his family.
First, then, let’s settle exactly what it is that you and I intend to discuss. [c] I might perhaps be taking it to be one thing, and you another, and then, after we’d discussed it a while, we’d both feel silly because I, the one giving advice, and you, the one taking advice, would be thinking about entirely different matters.
DEMODOCUS: I think you’re right, Socrates—that’s the way it should be done.
SOCRATES: I am right, but not completely—I have one little change to make. It occurs to me that this youngster may not really want what we think he wants, but something else. In that case our thinking would be even more absurd and irrelevant. So it seems best for us to start with the [d] boy himself, and ask what exactly it is that he wants.
DEMODOCUS: Well, it does seem that it would be best to do as you say.
SOCRATES: Then tell me, what’s the fine name of the young man? How should we address him?
DEMODOCUS: Theages is his name, Socrates.
SOCRATES: It is a fine name you’ve given your son, Demodocus, and godly.1 Tell us, then, Theages, do you say you want to become wise; are [e] you demanding that your father here arrange to have you associate with some man who’ll make you wise?
THEAGES: Yes.
SOCRATES: Whom do you call wise—those who know (whatever they know about), or those who don’t?
THEAGES: Those who know.
SOCRATES: Well, didn’t your father have you taught and trained in what others of your age—the sons of gentlemen—are taught, such as reading and writing, and playing the lyre, and wrestling, and other sports?
THEAGES: Yes, he did.
SOCRATES: Yet you think that you’re lacking some knowledge, which it’s [123] appropriate for your father to provide you?
THEAGES: I do.
SOCRATES: What is it? Tell us, so we can oblige you.
THEAGES: He knows it, Socrates, because I’ve often told him. But in front of you he talks as if he didn’t know what I want. In fact, he argues with me about these things, and other things, too,2 and refuses to place me with anyone.
SOCRATES: But what you said before was said without witnesses, as it [b] were. Now make me your witness, and state in my presence what this wisdom is that you want. Come on; if you desired that wisdom by which people steer ships, and I asked you: “Theages, what wisdom do you lack? Why do you criticize your father for refusing to place you with someone who could make you wise?” What would you answer me? What is it? Isn’t it the helmsman’s skill?
THEAGES: Yes.
[c] SOCRATES: And if you criticized your father because you desired the wisdom by which people steer chariots, and again I asked what this wisdom is, what would you say it is? Isn’t it the charioteer’s skill?
THEAGES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And the object of your current desire; is it some nameless thing, or does it have a name?
THEAGES: I think it has.
SOCRATES: Then do you know it, but not the name, or do you know the name, as well?
THEAGES: I know the name, too.
SOCRATES: So what is it? Tell me!
[d] THEAGES: What other name, Socrates, would anyone give it but wisdom?
SOCRATES: But isn’t the charioteer’s skill also a kind of wisdom? Or do you think it’s ignorance?
THEAGES: I don’t.
SOCRATES: So it’s wisdom.
THEAGES:
Yes.
SOCRATES: What do we use it for? Isn’t it what we use in knowing how to direct a team of horses?
THEAGES: Yes.
SOCRATES: Isn’t the helmsman’s skill also a kind of wisdom?
THEAGES: I think it is.
SOCRATES: And isn’t that the skill we use in knowing how to direct ships?
THEAGES: Yes, that’s right.
SOCRATES: And the one that you desire, what sort of wisdom is that? [e] What would it give us the knowledge to direct?
THEAGES: People, I think.
SOCRATES: Sick people?
THEAGES: Of course not!
SOCRATES: That would be medicine, wouldn’t it?
THEAGES: Yes.
SOCRATES: Well is it what we use in knowing how to direct the singers in choruses?
THEAGES: No.
SOCRATES: That would be music?
THEAGES: Obviously.
SOCRATES: Well is it what we use in knowing how to direct athletes?
THEAGES: No.
SOCRATES: Because that’s physical education?
THEAGES: Yes.
SOCRATES: Well then, to direct those who are doing what? Try your best to tell me, following the examples I’ve just given.
THEAGES: Those in the city, that’s what I think. [124]
SOCRATES: But aren’t the sick people in the city, too?
THEAGES: Yes, but I don’t mean just those people, but also everyone else in the city, too.
SOCRATES: Let’s see if I understand the skill you’re talking about. I don’t think you’re talking about the skill by which we know how to direct harvesters and pickers and planters and seeders and threshers, for it’s the farmer’s skill by which we direct these isn’t it?
THEAGES: Yes.
SOCRATES: Nor, I suppose, do you mean the skill by which we know [b] how to direct sawyers and drillers and planers and turners, and so on, because that would be carpentry.
THEAGES: Yes.
SOCRATES: Perhaps it’s the skill by which we know how to direct or rule over all of these—the farmers and the carpenters, and all the workers and ordinary people, both women and men. Is this, perhaps, the sort of wisdom you mean?
THEAGES: That’s what I’ve been trying to say all along, Socrates.